


lasagne

by royalwisteria



Series: Bellamy and Clarke: a series of domestic drabbles [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Parents, Domestic Fluff, F/M, overprotective dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 22:32:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4280385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royalwisteria/pseuds/royalwisteria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anna Griffin-Blake (16) asks someone on a date and Bellamy says no. Clarke is not cool with this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lasagne

“Oh my _god_ ,” Clarke says, bending down to pull the lasagne out of the oven. Bellamy’s face pinches further as she places it on the stove. “This is why Octavia hated you in high school, isn’t it?”

Bellamy doesn’t answer, which is answer enough.

“Anna’s a teenager, not stupid,” she says, shedding the oven mitts and tossing them on the counter. One hand remains on the counter, the other making a fist on her hip. “It’s just a date.”

“Teens can be stupid,” Bellamy counters. “In fact, studies show that—”

“This is totally why Octavia hated your guts,” Clarke interrupts. “How did I not figure this out earlier? You were an overprotective shit.”

“I had her best interests at heart, just like I have Anna’s!”

“Yeah,” Clarke says, rolling her eyes. “Right. That’s why she’s crying in her room after you yelled at her. Best interests.”

“Dates aren’t worth her time.”

“I honestly can’t believe we’re having this conversation.” Clarke moves from the counter, edging closer to her husband. “You do know I wasn’t much older than Anna when we first dated.”

Bellamy’s expression is belligerent and this is honestly the most _ridiculous_ thing in the world. “She’s not ready to date.”

“And now it’s a matter of maintaining your position, Jesus Christ, Bellamy, stop this right now. Tell Anna she can go on whatever dates she wants, and this won’t escalate.”

His jaw sets, the exact same way their two kids do. They inherited their stubbornness from him, because she doesn’t think she was like this when young. At least, with Tommy, Bellamy had been more worried about him never going out, toting him to sports games all over the city, and then helping him with elaborate train models when he realized Tommy doesn’t care for sports.

“I refuse.”

Clarke sighs, pinches her nose. “Help yourself to the lasagne,” she says and moves past him, not even close to touching. He remains in the kitchen, and she hears him move to the pan as she starts ascending the stairs. There’s the distant clink of a knife cutting the lasagne, faint scraping sounds, and she taps softly on Anna’s door. There’s a muffled thud of something thrown at the door and a broken, “go _away_.”

“Anna, it’s me,” she says softly and opens the door. Anna’s curled up in bed and doesn’t sit up when Clarke enters. She closes the door behind her and softly moves to her daughter’s bed, sitting next to her and running a hand through Anna’s blonde curls. Her heart wrenches at the red-rimmed eyes and the tear tracks, smudged eyeliner.

“I’ve been crushing for months and I finally asked them out— and they said yes! That’s super rare in high school Mom, please tell me you convinced dad—” Her voice cuts off as she looks hopefully towards Clarke. Clarke’s expression spells out no, and there’s a faint whimper.

“Dad says no, but you’ll still be going on your date. In fact, I’m going to take you shopping and you can pick out a whole new outfit. How does that sound?”

“I don’t want my moms charity,” Anna replies, voice muffled in her pillow. “And Dad—”

“Anna,” Clarke cuts. “Your dad is not the final voice in this household. He’s being ridiculous. Did you know,” she says, shifting closer, and Anna turns over to curl into Clarke’s body. She used to be so small, Clarke wonders. When did her little girl become so big? “That Octavia used to sneak out of their house because Bellamy refused to let her go out?”

Anna shakes her head.

“Bellamy would watch her room like a hawk, checking in on her, and she would still sneak out, go to parties, meet boys, and Bellamy yelled at her the next day. And still, next time she wanted to party, go out, she would sneak out regardless of the lecture she knew she’d get. And, know what?”

Anna shakes her head again, a smaller motion, eyes trained on Clarke’s face. Clarke smiles and tucks some hair behind Anna’s ear. “She didn’t care, didn’t listen, and did whatever she wanted because she knew her own self better than he did. She’s strong, just like you are. If you don’t want a new outfit, that’s fine, but think about whether or not Dad’s paranoia is worth listening to. He won’t love you any less, won’t think of you any less, if you decide to not listen to him. You’re an adult now, honey. Still young, but capable, and so smart, so independent. You take after your aunt.”

The tears have stopped and, Anna is too old for it, but Clarke still presses a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “Want me to bring you some food?”

Anna’s smile is tremulous as she shakes her head. “I’m good.”

“Good night, then,” Clarke says and stands up, leaves her daughter’s room and finds Bellamy poking at the serving of lasagne he hasn’t touched.

“You told her to be like Octavia, didn’t you,” he mumbles.

Clarke sighs. “Don’t even pretend they’re dissimilar,” she says, grabbing a plate and serving herself some pasta. The edges have cooled considerably, but the insides are still hot. “She would’ve snuck out no matter what you said.”

“She’s just sixteen,” he says as she sits next to him, taking a bit of lasagne. “I don’t want her to get hurt.”

Clarke sighs. “She’s better socially adjusted than Tommy ever was,” she says, taking a bit of lasagne and feeding Bellamy. He gives her a look, but opens her mouth and chews regardless. “I’m honestly more worried about who she’s going to hurt. She’s more Blake than Griffin.”

Bellamy snorts. “You saying you’ve never hurt anyone?”

She shrugs and steals his glass of water. “I’m the personification of innocence.”

He laughs, softly, and leans towards her. “The lasagne’s good,” he murmurs.

She fixes him with a look and he presses a sneaky kiss to her cheek. “My food is _always_ good. Especially the pasta. You know I learned to cook from an old Italian lady.”

Bellamy hums and kisses her cheek again, closer to her mouth. She gives him another forkful of pasta and takes another bite herself. “Gonna apologize to Anna?” she asks.

He takes her fork and has another bite of food. “Yeah. I will.” He stands.

“If you end up yelling,” she calls after him. “You’re sleeping on the couch. The uncomfy one, in the basement.”

He waves a hand at her as he disappears going up the stairs.

 

**Author's Note:**

> partially because toast and cereal won bffa for best domestic drabble, i've decided to expand on this verse bc it's cute, fun, and easy to write (i wrote this in 20 mins)
> 
> ps. yes, the person anna asks out is agender :)


End file.
